


Logic in the Afternoon

by BronteLover



Series: The Classic Collection [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on an old film, Eventual Sexual Content, F/M, Romance, Slightly OOC Spock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronteLover/pseuds/BronteLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have thought that fate would have brought a philandering Vulcan Starfleet Commander and a naive xenolinguistics major together? Very much inspired by "Love in the Afternoon", starring the lovely Audrey Hepburn and the dashing Gary Cooper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mister and Missus X

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Star Trek nor Love in the Afternoon. I do not write this work for money or commercial gain. I write this work for non-profit entertainment. 
> 
>  
> 
> I know that Spock is far from being a womaniser and that Nyota is definitely not naive, but I love Star Trek, and this pairing, and I love Audrey Hepburn films, so I thought I'd give this a try.

Uhura had been a detective for a very long time, and he found that love, or what people believed to be love, was everywhere. There were all kinds of love, too. Familial love, brotherly love, first love, and that most destructive of all “loves”: elicit love.

That most destructive of loves was being conducted at this moment, in suite fourteen of the Intergalactic Hotel in San Francisco, between one Mr. Spock and Missus X.

Uhura took pictures of the notorious Vulcan and his married lover as they embraced inside Mr. Spock’s hotel room, and then when Missus X exited the hotel and walked across the front courtyard.

The case was closed, and he felt a feeling of contentment at another job well done. When he arrived home, he could hear his daughter practicing her Vulcan in her room. He frowned slightly at the coincidence and then shrugged, she needed to be proficient in Vulcan if she wanted to be a communications officer, after all.

“Good morning, papa,” she greeted once he entered her line of vision.

“Good morning, Nyota,” he smiled.

“Was it a long night, papa?” she asked, pausing her language programme.

Uhura sat down to the breakfast tray that Nyota had prepared for him, before he rejoined, “Yes it was.”

“Did anything particularly scandalous happen?” she hinted.

He fixed her with a disapproving look, and replied after he’d swallowed his mouthful of croissant, “Have you been going through my computer files again?”

She gazed down at the floor demurely, “Not recently, papa.”

“Nyota! How many times have I told you not to go looking through all that filth?”

She sighed softly, “I know, papa, but all the girls at Starfleet are so jealous of my private library.”

“My files aren’t a library, Nyota, they’re a sewer.”

“Oh no, papa!” she protested, walking towards him and stopping at the door of her bedroom. “It’s all so romantic! I think my favourite one is about the Duchess and her Alpine guide. Imagine giving up the castle and all the hounds to be with the man you love.”

“All for a few weeks of scandalous passion,” Uhura grumbled, dipping his croissant into his tea. “A tragic story must have a tragic end!”

“Oh but imagine dying in an avalanche in the arms of the man you love,” Nyota replied dreamily.

“A positively ridiculous demise when modern technology gives you ample warning before such an event. They’ll be thawed out by the summer!”

Nyota just sighed softly.

“Nyota, I don’t want you going through my files anymore-” he was cut off as the doorbell rang. “And I don’t want you to answer the door either. That’s one of my clients, now go to your room and practice your Vulcan.”

Nyota raised an arched eyebrow before replying, “Yes papa.”

Uhura opened the door for his very sombre looking client, who entered with a groan and set his suitcases down in the narrow entrance hall. Uhura led him into his office where the man promptly slumped into a seat. The sound of Nyota practicing emanated from the next room.

The client frowned deeply, “Oh please would you stop that noise? I’m a very nervous man.”

Uhura nodded, “Of course.”

He walked the short distance to Nyota’s room and opened the door.

“Not now, Nyota,” he said, pointing to her computer.

Nyota frowned slightly, “Yes papa.”

Uhura closed her door behind him and rejoined his dour client.

“So?” Mister X prompted. “What’s the verdict?”

Uhura sat down behind his desk and replied, “Just one moment, the pictures are still being uploaded to my computer. How was London?”

“Miserable,” his client stated sourly.

“What a pity, the evenings have been so warm here. How was your business?”

“Terrible,” he whined.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, things have been so lively here in San Francisco.”

The files finally finished uploading and he turned his computer monitor so that it faced his client.

“So is my wife having an affair or not?” the client demanded.

“That depends,” Uhura replied, zooming in on the image of Missus X crossing the hotel courtyard. “Is this your wife?”

The picture was not very clear because a black lace veil obscured the woman’s face, and most of her body was covered in a black satin dress.

“It must be her,” the client replied in horror. “I should have taken her with me to London!”

“That wouldn’t have helped. Mr. Spock has conducted his activities there, and in Rome, Athens, New York, Paris. I won’t bore you with such particulars, however. Would you like to hear about your wife’s rendezvous with Mr. Spock?”

The client inhaled sharply, “Yes I would.”

“Very good. She normally arrives at about nine o’ clock and uses the service elevator to reach Mr. Spock’s room. He normally plays a number of compositions on his Vulcan lyre until about a quarter to ten, at which time he puts on a recording of Terran slow dance songs. He and your wife invariably dance for about an hour until the recordings stop.”

“What happens then?” Mister X asked tersely.

“He and your wife retire to his bedroom, of course.”

“Of course,” Mister X groaned, then he frowned deeply again. “What time did you say they stop dancing at?”

“About a quarter to eleven.”

“Then at that time I will walk into suite fourteen and shoot!”

“Your wife?” Uhura demanded. “Oh no! You will probably hit her in the leg or arm because your hands were trembling, and then you’ll take her to the hospital where she’ll meet a very attractive doctor-”

“Why would I ever shoot my wife? I love my wife!”

“Oh good! Then you must not shoot yourself!”

The client looked confused, “Why would I shoot myself? I haven’t done anything!”

“Then who will you shoot?”

“Why Mr. Spock of course! I will walk into suite fourteen at exactly a quarter to eleven and shoot!”

During the beginning of this exchange, Nyota had taken the opportunity to eavesdrop. When she heard the last part of the conversation and what Mister X planned to do to Mr. Spock, she gasped. She couldn’t let him kill the poor man!

“You do realise that Mr. Spock is a Commander in Starfleet, and because you have shot him, you will invariably have to spend a long time in prison for committing cold blooded murder,” Uhura explained.

“I may, but I am willing to do so.”

“Well then, I must demand that you pay me immediately.”

“Of course,” Mister X replied, flipping open his credit storage device. “How much do I owe you?”

“Sixty thousand credits,” Uhura replied. “It should actually be more, because with Mr. Spock’s removal, my business will drop sharply.”

The client punched the amount into his credit storage device, and then replied, “There we are. I must be going now, Mr. Uhura.”

Uhura nodded as he followed his client to the door, “Would you like me to send you the pictures? It’s no extra charge.”

“Send them to my lawyer, along with my luggage.”

“Very well, it’s no extra charge.”

Nyota heard the door click behind Mister X and she immediately opened her bedroom door.

“Papa,” she called.

“Yes Nyota?”

“Um may I continue practicing now?” she asked nervously.

“Of course, my darling.”

“I’d better clear the tray first,” she said, walking into the dining room.

On the way to the dining room she saw the picture of Mr. Spock on her father’s computer monitor.

 _He’s very handsome,_ she thought, taking in the large, obsidian eyes and glossy cap of black hair, against pale skin. His lips were full and curved beneath a lovely straight nose. She slid her finger along the screen while her father’s back was turned to her, and saw the picture of Mr. Spock standing on his suite’s balcony.

“He must be at least six foot two,” she mused out loud.

Her father frowned as he turned around, and then he sharply turned the monitor away from her.

“Go back to your room and practice your Vulcan, Nyota.”

“Yes papa.”

 

**

She was completely distracted during her evening xenolinguistics’ lesson while she thought about Mister X shooting the beautiful Vulcan, Mr. Spock.

“What time is it now?” she asked her friend Leonard McCoy.

He frowned and looked down at his watch, “It’s nine thirty. Why do you keep asking?”

“Right everyone,” said the lecturer. “That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you again on Thursday.”

Nyota quickly gathered her things and left the lecture hall with Leonard in tow, a very confused expression on his face.

She suddenly whirled round and asked, “Do you have a phone card?”

“Yes.”

“Good. May I borrow it? I need to make an urgent phone call.”

Leonard’s expression grew even more confused as he handed Nyota his phone card. She stepped into the phone box and placed Leonard’s card in the slot.

“Who is your intended recipient?” the robotic voice of the phone booth asked.

“The Intergalactic Hotel,” Nyota replied.

There was a moment of beeping and then the image of the hotel concierge filled the screen.

“Hello,” he smiled slightly. “This is the Intergalactic Hotel. How may I be of assistance?”

“Hello. Please put this call through to Mr. Spock in suite fourteen. It’s urgent!”

“I am afraid I can’t do that, Miss. Mr. Spock has given explicit orders not to be disturbed in the evening.”

“Listen to me,” Nyota replied desperately. “If you don’t put this call through, he won’t be disturbed _permanently!_ ”

The concierge raised an eyebrow, “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Miss.”

“Oh please-” she began before the concierge cut her off and the screen went blank.

“Nyota,” Leonard exclaimed. “Who’s Mr. Spock?”

Nyota ignored his question and slid the card back into the slot.

“Who are you calling now?” Leonard demanded in exasperation.

“The San Francisco Police Station,” she replied to the computer, as she shut the booth’s door in Leonard’s shocked face.

“This is Sergeant Kordian,” the friendly Orion said. “How may I help you?”

“There’s a man and a woman in suite fourteen of the Intergalactic Hotel!”

“I see. What crime is being committed?”

“You don’t understand! The woman is _married,_ and her husband has a phaser! A great, _big phaser!_ ”

“Is the phaser not registered?” the Orion asked, his mouth lifting at the side slightly.

“No, no! At a quarter to eleven this evening he is going to go into the hotel suite and shoothis wife’s lover!”

“Oh I see. Well at a quarter eleven, if the husband does indeed shoot his wife’s lover, then please contact us again.”

“But you don’t understand! He’s going to _kill_ her lover!”

“My dear Miss, there are approximately seven thousand hotels in San Francisco, and about two hundred thousand rooms in those hotels. I’d say that in about forty thousand of those rooms, a similar situation is unfolding. Now if we were to send a policeman to all those rooms, it would be impossible! It just boggles the imagination! We’d have to send the fire department, and the sanitation department! No, no! It’s just _not_ possible.”

“But-” Nyota began.

“Good evening, Miss,” the Orion sergeant smiled before cutting the connection.

Nyota stared at the screen in defeat for a moment, before she opened the phone booth’s door and was confronted by an indignant Leonard.

“Nyota! You will explain to me what this is all about! I’d like to take you home now!”

Nyota’s head snapped up and a twinkling filled her large eyes, “Yes Leonard, I want you to take me home. But on the way home, could we please stop at the Intergalactic Hotel?”

“The Intergalactic Hotel?” Leonard blustered as Nyota dragged him down the hallway towards the exit.

 

**

Nyota stood in the long passage that ran along the expanse of the floor upon which suite fourteen, and numerous other rooms, were situated. She could hear the sound of Terran slow dance songs softly wafting into the air from Mr. Spock’s room. How was she going to get into his room? She couldn’t very well barge in and declare herself! What if Mister X was hanging around and saw her? He may come in and shoot Mr. Spock ahead of schedule!

She stood thinking until a woman in a great white coat and carrying a furry little dog, made her way to the suite next to Mr. Spock’s, and promptly forgot to remove her access key from her door.

Nyota approached the door with caution and then took a deep breath before opening it. The woman was obviously in the bathroom, only her little dog sat in a plush cushion by the bed. It immediately began to yap as Nyota tiptoed towards the open balcony doors.

“Oh shush,” she instructed, as she stepped out onto the balcony.

She looked to her right, towards Mr. Spock’s hotel room, and saw that the ledge leading to his balcony was quite wide. She gave a sharp nod before climbing over the balustrade, and making her way along the ledge. She did not dare look down, because she was very high up, and was very relieved when she climbed onto suite fourteen’s balcony.

Luckily the balcony doors were open so she quickly entered the room. The lights were quite low, and for a moment all she could hear was the romantic music, it sounded like _Fascination,_ but then she saw the slowly swaying figures of Mr. Spock and Missus X.

“Mr. Spock,” she whispered, walking towards them.

Neither of them made any sign of recognition, and Nyota sighed before patting him on the shoulder and repeating his name. At her touch he looked up and his winged brow creased.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“That’s not important! What is important is that you, “ she pointed at Missus X, “leave here immediately!”

“Why she should she do that?”

“Because her husband is outside the door! With a phaser!” Nyota motioned wildly towards the door. “A great, _big_ phaser!”

Missus X pulled her veil over her face and stood perfectly still beside Mr. Spock.

“How inconvenient,” he replied.

 

**

 

At exactly a quarter to eleven, when he heard that the Terran slow music, _Fascination_ he believed, came to an end, he emerged from his hiding place. He looked at the phaser in his hand for a moment, and then made his way to the door of suite fourteen. He ripped the _Do Not Disturb_ sign off, and then tried to kick the door down, before he realised the door was in fact open and he almost tumbled indignantly into the room.

“Sorry Mr. Spock!” he cried, righting himself and waving his phaser in the air. “But that’s quite enough of _that_ with my wife!”

Spock looked at him from his seat on the couch that had its back facing the door, and frowned.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Disentangle yourself from my wife!” Mister X demanded, approaching the couple while brandishing his phaser at them.

“Your wife?” Spock asked.

“Of course _my_ wife!”

Spock turned towards his silent companion and asked, “Is this your husband?”

She leaned forward slightly as she removed her veil, revealing a face that was far too young and exotic to be Mister X’s wife.

“Why I don’t believe so,” she replied.

“But, but!” Mister X spluttered. “I don’t understand! You are Mister Spock, are you not?”

“Indeed I am,” he replied impassively.

“And this is suite fourteen?” Mister X asked, his voice growing softer.

“Affirmative.”

“Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Mister X made his way over to the hotel communicator built into the wall, and pressed the call button.

“Hello is this the concierge?”

He was silent for a moment while the question was answered, “Is there another Mr. Spock in this hotel?”

He nodded, “I see. Is there another suite fourteen?”

His expression grew increasing bereft,  “This is the Intergalactic Hotel, correct?”

He released a sigh as the other person spoke, and then disconnected the call after issuing a confused thank you.

He stared at Spock and the mystery girl for a moment before he said, “I must apologise for my behaviour. I thought that you were having an affair with my wife. But you aren’t my wife, are you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Nyota replied.

“I must say I am glad. You don’t look a thing like my wife. She’s much more,” he made a gesture that communicated womanly curves. “She’s not heavy mind you! She’s very beautiful! I think that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Indeed,” Spock replied dryly.

“I so wish you could meet her,” Mister X sighed dreamily. “Well I’ll go then. I apologise again.”

“Your apology is not necessary. It is illogical to apologise for misunderstanding something.”

Mister X gave a nervous little bow before he tottered out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

“That was indeed “close” as you humans like to say,” Spock said as he turned towards Nyota.

“Yes,” she smiled slightly. “Well Mr. Spock, I must go now. It was nice meeting you.”

Spock frowned, “But you cannot leave without explaining to me how you came to know about his intention to shoot me.”

Nyota’s shrugged, “I heard it from a friend of a friend… of a friend…”

Spock raised an eyebrow, “You must have many friends.”

Nyota blushed, as her eyes took in his lean, tall frame. He was dressed in a white Nehru collar shirt, black slacks and loafers. He really was _incredibly_ handsome.

“You are six foot two, aren’t you?” she asked rhetorically.

Spock opened his mouth in order to reply but was cut off by the sound of knocking at his hotel room door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s the husband!” came the muffled reply.

Nyota knew that if Spock were human, he would have rolled his eyes, but instead he evenly replied, “Just a moment, please.”

He led Nyota back to the couch, and when she was comfortably secured in the circle of his arm, he called, “Come in.”

As Mister X entered, Spock drew Nyota against him and kissed her gently. Her whole body tensed in surprise and then she relaxed as Spock’s warm tongue licked at the line of her lips. While Mister X babbled his apologies about interrupting, and retrieved his phaser from the small table under the communicator, as he explained that he’d bought it in London and would return it because he still had his sales slip, Spock’s deft tongue explored the responsive cavern of Nyota’s mouth.

She expected him to immediately break the kiss when Mister X finally took his leave a second time, but he titled her head back instead, and deepened the kiss. Her head felt wonderfully light, and all her nerves seemed to be concentrated on the sensations that stemmed from Spock’s talented ministrations on her mouth.

He finally pulled away from her, and for a moment she gazed at him in a dreamy haze. Then alarms went off in her addled brain and she leapt off the couch.

Spock looked vaguely amused as she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Spock, but I really must go now.”

“Alright,” he replied, as he got up from the couch. “But I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner of course.”

She stared at him, and finally replied, “Oh no. I’m sorry, but I’ve got a previous engagement.”

He looked decidedly unimpressed, but he didn’t give up, “Then you can come in the afternoon.”

She had made her way to the door once more, and paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“Oh I don’t think so-”

He walked towards her and stopped barely an arm’s length away, “I’m leaving for a science conference tomorrow night, and I would like you to see me off.”

She contemplated this for a moment before she gave in and replied, “I’ll come tomorrow afternoon then. I really must go now before I get in trouble with the man I live with.”

“The man you live with?” he mimicked in surprise.

“Yes,” she frowned slightly as she opened the door. “Goodnight Mr. Spock.”

“Goodnight slim girl,” he replied.

She stilled in the corridor outside his hotel room, “Don’t you mean _thin_ girl?”

He stared at her with a look of incomprehension.

“You see, in all the early twentieth century detective novels and movies, they always call the mysterious character _thin_ man. So you should call me _thin_ girl, not _slim_ girl.”

Spock was silent for a few minutes, and then he answered, “No. I think I like slim girl. Goodnight Slim.”

She laughed and repeated her farewell before making her way down the passage away from his room. He watched her as she left, and only closed his door when she rounded the corner. When she was out of sight, she raised her fingers to her lips, and thought about him kissing her. It had been her first kiss.

**

She hummed _Fascination_ as she got out of the hoverbus outside of her apartment building.

“What are you humming?” Leonard grouched. “And where did you get that stupid veil?”

Nyota only smiled at him and then blew a kiss as she entered the apartment building, leaving Leonard, confused and irritable, on the pavement.

As she made her way up the stairs, she heard laughing ahead, and then, “My wife and I will laugh about this for weeks, Mr. Uhura!”

“I see,” she heard her father reply in bemusement. “I don’t understand. My reports are always accurate.”

“Well, I’m glad that this time it was inaccurate,” Mister X replied and laughed again.

“Yes,” her father replied absently.

“Goodnight, Mr. Uhura,” Mister X said, and then she heard footsteps fast approaching.

For a moment she was frozen in panic. What if he recognised her? Then he would surely know that Mr. Spock had been seeing his wife, and he’d _definitely_ go back and shoot him with his phaser. His great, _big_ phaser.

She took a deep breath before tying up her hair in her customary ponytail, and slipping the veil into her coat. Mister X passed her on the stairs, and greeted her jovially. She turned her head away in order to obscure his view of her face, and gave a soft greeting in return. Her ascent was rapid and she soon opened the door to the apartment and slipped inside.

Mister X paused on the stairs for a moment, and mused about how familiar that girl had looked, before he shrugged and left the building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyota cannot fight the temptation to know more about Mr. Spock from her father's forbidden files, but what she finds there does not completely please her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or Love in the Afternoon. I do not write these works for monetary or commercial gain. I write these works for non-profit entertainment. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for the kudos. It is very encouraging!

When her father was in the shower that morning, Nyota quietly went to his computer and sent all of his files on Mr. Spock, to her own computer. She was thankful that her father liked long showers, because Mr. Spock’s file was rather long and took a while to be sent in its entirety.

She silently crept back to her room and started the Vulcan linguistics programme once more. She wanted her father to think that she was engrossed in her studies, not reading the file about this notorious Vulcan about town.

Her father entered the dining room a few moments later, “Are you practicing your Vulcan again?”

“Yes papa,” she replied.

He nodded approvingly and sat down to eat his breakfast.

She gasped softly as she read about the geisha girls who had traditionally bathed Spock in Hong Kong (his handsome face completely expressionless as they all fawned over him). She suppressed a giggle as she read about his narrow escape from an angry Deltan husband, and stared admiringly at the picture of him receiving an award for his outstanding contribution to Scientific Discovery in Starfleet.

Her sighs were quieted and her vision cleared, however, when she read about him being the cause of the suicide attempt of a young Orion girl, named Gaila. She had tried to kill herself in his hotel room in Venice II, and had had to be rushed to hospital in order to be saved. Nyota felt rather unnerved by the fact that Mr. Spock could have been the cause of such a thing. Orion women normally controlled males of all species with their pheromones, but it was a testament to his abilities that he had made an Orion woman his conquest. It showed how little he seemed to care for the various women he seduced.  Nyota thought about how susceptible she had been to his charms the night before, and gazed sadly at the monitor for a while. Her mood had darkened somewhat, and she was unaware that her elbow was resting on the keyboard, making the Vulcan woman’s voice repeat a certain word over and over again.

Uhura was aware of it, however, and scowled somewhat into his cup of coffee as he ate his Danish pastry.

Nyota was roused from her rather dour state when her father entered her bedroom. She quickly closed the file on Mr. Spock and paused the Vulcan linguistics programme.

“The Vulcans seem to have a very limited language,” he joked, as he shrugged into his coat and put on his hat.

Nyota giggled nervously as she awkwardly rose from her seat, “Where are you off to, papa?”

“I’m going to find the wife of a banker from Ferenginar. She ran off with the chauffer, and the husband wants his blue Mercedes back.”

“That’s not very romantic.”

Uhura shrugged, “How is your friend Leonard? He’s a nice young man isn’t he? Despite his divorce.”

“Papa!” Nyota exclaimed. “How do you know about his divorce? I never told you about it!”

“I did a background check on him. He comes from a very good Georgian family. There hasn’t been a scandal since eighteen ninety seven, when his uncle ran off with a beautiful Creole girl.”

“Papa! I can’t believe you did a background check on poor Leonard!”

Her father smiled indulgently, “If I were a king I would shower you in diamonds and pearls. If I were a cobbler I’d sole your shoes, but I am a detective, so I can give you a complete dossier.”

Nyota couldn’t suppress her laughter as her father kissed her on the cheek and said goodbye for the day.

Her temporarily restored good humour ebbed somewhat, however, when she once more looked at the picture of Mr. Spock on her computer screen. He was so very handsome, like some dark prince who had come into her well-ordered life and disrupted everything.

She sighed when she decided that she would send a written communication to the Intergalactic Hotel, which informed Mr. Spock that she would not be coming to see him that afternoon.

She pulled her PADD towards her and set about writing the communication with her stylus.

_Dear Mr. Spock_

she began

_I should have let you be shot._

She shook her head and deleted the communication, and began again:

_Dear Mr. Spock_

_I am afraid I will be unable to see you this afternoon, or any other afternoon for that matter._

She groaned softly and deleted the communication again. Taking a resolute breath she straightened her slim shoulders and started once more.

_Dear Mr. Spock_

_After much consideration, I have decided that I do not wish to become involved with you, even if you are accomplished in playing the Vulcan lyre and other less traditional instruments._

_Yours truly,_

_Slim girl._

She read it once and nodded in satisfaction, her finger hovering over the _send message_ icon. Exhaling softly, she deleted the communication instead and sat gazing dreamily at his handsome photo.

**

When Nyota entered suite fourteen, Spock had just completed mediation and was packing his suitcase.

“Hello?” she called.

“I am here,” he replied as he exited the bedroom.

He wore his black Commander Starfleet uniform, which made his pale skin seem to glow, and his large, sloe black eyes seem bottomless.

“I came earlier to tell you that I won’t be coming later,” she said.

His brow creased slightly, “That statement possesses a strangely coherent sort of logic.”

“I also came to return the veil,” she explained, holding it out to him.

“I think you should keep it as a sort of _memento,_ as you humans like to say.”

“Oh no,” she smiled and shook her head. “I suppose I should have left it at the front desk.”

“I am afraid that that would have not been wise. Curiosity would have been aroused and questions would have been asked,” he rejoined, approaching her like a panther languidly advancing towards his wounded prey.

“I could have put it in a large brown bag and written personal on it,” she countered, as he slowly made her retreat towards the balcony.

“Then they would most definitely have opened it.”

He was standing very close to her now, so close in fact that she could make out the slightly risen fabric detail of his uniform. Her throat felt as if it were closing, and that she had only enough air to breath, and not enough to form coherent sentences.

He brought his hand up to her face and gently stroked her jaw, “Why not have one dance? As a sort of farewell gesture.”

All her earlier arguments against staying with him this afternoon were gradually receding from her mind. His fingers upon her skin were so very warm, and she could smell his unique scent, that of desert spices.

“Alright,” she sighed. “One farewell dance.”

One farewell dance turned into many more, until they once again came to _Fascination._ She knew that she would forever associate that old waltz song with Spock and the afternoon.

“Did your mother teach you how to dance?” she asked, her head resting against his shoulder.

“My mother?” he repeated softly.

“Yes. She’s a human, isn’t she?”

He was silent for a while, before he answered, “Yes, she is.”

“So did she teach you how to dance?” she smiled, lifting her head in order to look at his face.

Something in his eyes seemed to soften, and the side of his lovely mouth lifted, “Yes. She did teach me how to dance like a Terran.”

Nyota wanted to ask him more about his mother, but the sound of a knock at the door quelled her questions.

“Yes?” Spock called.

“It is time for us to collect your luggage, Mr. Spock,” came the voice of a porter.

“I see. Come in.”

Spock stepped away from Nyota and said, “Come and help me finish my packing.”

Nyota nodded and followed him into the bedroom, where he lifted her onto his packed suitcase.

“You are the perfect weight,” he said, securing the magnetic clasps on the suitcase. “In Hong Kong, I once had the lid of my suitcase completely crushed in.”

“Well what do you expect, Mr. Spock? Six geisha girls all on one suitcase,” she replied, climbing off of his suitcase.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

“May I take your suitcase, Mr. Spock?” the porter interjected.

Spock looked momentarily distracted, and then he replied, “Yes.”

When they were standing in front of the hotel with Spock’s luggage secure in the hotel’s hoverbus, which would take him to the hovertrain station, he gave each porter a hotel tip chip, to which they replied, with a little bow, “Thank you, Mr. Spock. Farewell and have a safe journey.”

He turned to Nyota and held out a hotel tip chip before he realised she wasn’t a porter.

She gave a small curtsy, and said, “Thank you, Mr. Spock. Farewell and have a safe journey.”

The side of his mouth lifted in what Nyota now supposed was his way of smiling, “May I know your name now? It is illogical for you to know who I am, but for me to be ignorant of your identity.”

She titled her head to the side slightly, “What does it really matter, Mr. Spock? Just think of me as what I am, the girl in the afternoon.”

Spock looked over her head for a moment, down the street, and then back at her face, “I wish that Cartier were open at this moment. I would buy you a gift of jewellery. I am aware that human women like jewellery.”

“Oh no, Mr. Spock. I don’t want anything from you,” she replied, but then she saw a small, silver pin on his uniform.

Spock followed her gaze, and after a moment said, “Here. You may have it.”

He made to secure it to her coat, but she shook her head, “No. It looks far too valuable to be given as a gift to a stranger.”

“Do not display such human sentiment,” he replied, securing the pin on her coat. “If you must be given over to such fancies, then think of it as a parting gift until we see each other again.”

She gazed at the pin for a while before she looked at him again, “Will we see each other again?”

“It is a possibility. I frequent San Francisco because of my position with Starfleet, and I always stay at the Intergalactic Hotel.”

“Adieu, Mr. Spock,” she smiled, and then kissed him on the cheek.

“Adieuma petiteétranger*,” he rejoined, before gracefully climbing into the hoverbus.

Nyota watched as it departed, and then she looked at the silver pin he had given her, and her heart bloomed with hope at the possibility of seeing him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Adieu ma petite étranger- Farewell my little stranger


	3. The Ermine Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyota and Spock meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither Love in the Afternoon nor Star Trek. I do not write this work for monetary or commercial gain. I write this work for non-profit entertainment.

Nyota did not see Spock again for an entire year. She did not want to acknowledge the fact that she missed him terribly, and that she had spent the early months after his departure in a state of mild depression. She was a practical girl, and practical girls, especially ones who hoped to serve as communications officer aboard the Starfleet flagship, could not afford to be moody and mawkish.

She would not admit that she always wore Spock’s pin, and had snapped at her father when he had questioned her about it.

“Where did you get that pin?” he had asked, frowning at her chest.

She set her jaw resolutely, “I won’t ask about your files if you don’t ask me about what I accessories I choose to wear.”

Her father had given her a surprised, and rather hurt look, but she had felt too miserable to apologise.

She had finally begun to think of Spock less when Leonard suggested that they go and look at the new displays in the Science Museum. He had seemed so enthusiastic that she could hardly refuse, besides she needed to think about something other than their impeding exams.

The museum was a very large, modern looking building situated near Starfleet. Nyota had not frequented it often, but she had to admit that it was a fascinating institution.

The new displays were positively crowded with civilians and Starfleet students, so they decided to look at some of the other displays and return when the crowds had somewhat dispersed.

They were looking at one of the early innovations in Terran space travel when Leonard suddenly stared over Nyota’s shoulder, and flushed slightly. She immediately turned her head to see what the cause of his sudden emotional shift was.

She identified the cause almost immediately. Christine Chaptel, with her golden hair and easy manners, stood by one of the other displays, talking to a friend.

Leonard seemed to realise he was staring, and gave Nyota a small, embarrassed smile.

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?” Nyota prompted.

He raised his eyebrows, “Are you sure? I mean I don’t want to leave you all alone when it was my idea to come here.”

Nyota waved a hand in dismissal, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not exactly a child. I can promise you that I won’t talk to strangers and get lost while you talk to Christine.”

Leonard rolled his eyes at her obvious sarcasm, “Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Nyota smiled slightly as she watched Leonard make his way over to Christine, and engage her attention in his usual gruff and socially awkward way.

She decided that she would go and look at the communications displays while Leonard was otherwise engaged. She was so preoccupied with thinking about what she was going to study when she returned to her dormitory, that she promptly walked into someone.

“Oh I’m so sorry-” she began, but her words dried up as she realised who she had walked into.

“It is quite alright,” Spock responded, giving her his customary half smile. “I can assure you that I am quite unharmed.”

She realised that he was speaking to her in a very detached tone, which meant that he did not recall who she was.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she replied, keeping the disappointment from her tone with difficulty.

He cocked his head to the side and frowned, “Did we meet at a science conference? Beta IX perhaps? I see that you are a Starfleet cadet, which means that it is likely that we have met in some capacity.”

She simply gazed at him mutely, before his eyes dropped to her pin and recognition came over his face.

“The Intergalactic Hotel,” he smirked. “How are you, Slim?”

Nyota couldn’t help but laugh, “I’m fine. It’s been quite a year for socialising alongside my academics.”

He nodded, “It is most pleasing to see you again. What brings you to the Science Museum, Cadet?”

“The new displays,” she motioned behind her. “Unfortunately there’s quite a crush in front of them.”

“It is wise to wait until the interest has dissipated somewhat before you endeavour to view them,” he angled his body so that he stood slightly closer to her, but in such a way that it was not immediately obvious to others. “I would like to see you again, if you are amendable to such a suggestion?”

Nyota felt her heart skip in joy, but she shrugged nonchalantly, “That would be fine. Would Friday afternoon suit you?”

Spock’s brow furrowed minutely, “That is two days from now.”

“I know,” she tried to sound bored, “but I have a schedule, as you know.”

Spock’s posture straightened slightly, but if he was annoyed, he did not show it, “Friday would be most agreeable.”

She smiled, “I’ll see you on Friday then.”

He nodded rather stiffly before he turned and left.

“I’m back,” Leonard announced a moment later. “Who were you talking to?”

“Oh, just a commander who wanted to know how the cadets liked the new displays, but I told him we hadn’t managed to look at them yet. So did you finally ask Christine out?”

Leonard couldn’t help but grin, and regale Nyota with the entire ten minute conversation.

 

* * *

 

When Nyota arrived at home, she was absently humming _Fascination._

“What’s that you’re humming?” her father asked, as he came into her room, carrying a white fur coat.

“Oh nothing papa,” she replied quickly. “I think it’s from some opera or another. Leonard was humming it.”

Her father nodded, seemingly satisfied, “May I put this coat in your cupboard?”

“Of course. It’s lovely. What is it made out of it?”

“It’s a clone of an Ermine coat. As you know, real fur is highly illegal,” her father replied, his tone becoming slightly moralistic.

“Yes papa. Who does it belong to?”

“A client. He was going to give it to his secretary, but he found that she was engaging in some out of office activities. He’s had the sleeves shortened so he can give it to his wife for their tenth wedding anniversary.”

Nyota raised an eyebrow, “I see.”

Her father shrugged as he put the coat in her cupboard, “Well I’m off to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight papa.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, as he closed her door.

She gazed at the coat for a long while before she finally decided what to do with it.

* * *

 

As soon as Spock heard the knock at the door, he started the Terran slow dance music. _Sleepwalk_ immediately filled the room as he opened the door, and took in the sight of Nyota dressed in a very expensive looking reproduction of an Ermine coat.

“Hello,” she smiled, entering the room.

“Hello,” he replied, frowning slightly at her attire. “Is it not rather humid to be wearing such a coat?”

Nyota shook her head, “Oh no. I get cold rather easily and I don’t want to get sick.”

Spock’s frown deepened, “I see.

He watched as Nyota gracefully sat on the couch.

He tried to keep his tone even as he asked, “Where did you get it?”

“Oh from a friend,” she replied idly. “He’s in exports and imports. He exports bananas and imports Orion perfume.”

“That doesn’t seem like a very fair trade,” Spock re-joined as he sat on the couch.

“It is,” she assured him quickly. “It’s not a very big bunch of bananas, you know, and Orion perfume is so popular, because of its pheromone properties, that he makes a killing.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, “Did you spend much time with him this past year?”

Nyota tilted her head and smiled, “A bit. I went to the Alps.”

“With him?”

“Oh no. With the Ferengi banker. He wanted to throw himself off his castle when he found out that I was seeing the Alpine guide.”

“That doesn’t sound very much like a Ferengi. They are far too interested in commerce to engage in such emotionally orientated reactions to unfaithfulness.”

“It wasn’t the Ferengi banker who wanted to kill himself,” she admitted. “It was the English Duke. He was prepared to give it all up, the estates and hounds, for me. It was quite romantic really.”

Spock stifled a sigh of frustration, “Shall we dance?”

“I’d like that,” Nyota replied, rising from the couch.

Spock led her to the middle of the room, and they began to slowly sway from side to side. Nyota revelled in the heat of Spock’s body, but she had to admit that she was beginning to feel rather warm in the Ermine coat.

“Why do you not take off the coat?” Spock murmured in her ear. “I can assure you that my body will keep you quite warm.”

She looked up at him and saw the heat in his dark eyes. He slid his hands up her body and helped her take off the coat.

He gazed at it when it was pooled on the floor, and hid his smile of satisfaction.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Sleepwalk is by Santo and Johnny, and is a lovely instrumental track.

**Author's Note:**

> I have watched both the Original Star Trek series starring William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelly as well as the new films, but I still make mistakes, so I apologise if you find any. I'm writing this for fun more than anything else. I don't remember Bones and Nyota ever being in xenolinguistics together seen as he's a medical doctor, but I felt that it worked for this story. Also I have changed things a bit by having Spock not be Nyota's lecturer.


End file.
